


In Sickness and in Health

by Calacious



Series: Ho oku i [11]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Maybe Some Plot, Naked Danny making the bed, Sickness, Some Humor, sick!Steve getting turned on by naked!Danny making the bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 05:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3597855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/pseuds/Calacious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny nurses Steve back to health, while lamenting the poor timing of Steve's illness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Sickness and in Health

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by my own bout with some kind of stomach bug or reaction to something I ate recently. It is unpleasant.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this work of fiction, and am not making a profit from writing it. I also do not own Gatorade, though I did just have my first glassful of the drink. It's not too bad.
> 
> I know that it's not perfect. I did read through it a couple of times prior to posting, and will embrace any errors contained herein (one error is purposeful...Steve's muttering). I'm ill today. I am going easy on myself.
> 
> Please let me know if you like.

Man's best laid plans rarely take illness into account, do they? Danny thinks bitterly. 

Though he's not angry with his partner, Danny can't help thinking that Steve's sudden illness is rather ill-timed (no pun intended) on the man's part, getting sick just before their tux fitting. His mother had said she’d rearrange it for them, and that it wasn’t a big deal, but he knows that it is, that it wasn’t easy for his mother to get them a tux fitting within the next few days on such short notice. 

They're getting married in just under a month, and already, Danny's playing the part of nursemaid to his husband-to-be. At least, by the time they  are  married, he'll have the part of their vows to, 'take Steve McGarrett...in sickness and in health,' down pat. 

He presses a hand, and then his lips to Steve's forehead (a tried and true method of gauging temperature) and frowns. 

"I'm sorry, Danny," Steve says, not for the first time since he fell ill. 

Danny waves off the apology, and plasters a smile on his face. Steve's burning up, and, truth be told, he's a little worried about the man, especially since he  never  gets sick. 

"Here, drink this, babe." Danny hands Steve a glass of Gatorade, because the man's been on and off the toilet for the past day and a half (truth be told, he's been on the toilet more than off it), and his coughing fits haven’t helped matters any either. 

Steve grimaces at the sweetness of the drink, but Danny quirks an eyebrow and sets his lips in a firm line. It's a look he's used with Grace when she doesn't want to do something that she knows she needs to. Steve finishes the entire glass of the liquid, eying Danny with no small amount of skepticism, and hurt, as though Danny's poisoning him rather than trying to replace lost electrolytes. 

Pouting, Steve wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and Danny gives him a small smile as reward for his  good behavior. Steve settles back against his pillow, a look of relief on his face.

Steve is worse than Rachel had been whenever she'd fallen ill, and that's saying something. At least Steve listens to him, for the most part, and does as he says, deferring to his expertise, as a father, not that Danny wants to think of himself in that capacity when he's tending to his husband to be, sitting on the edge of the bed in close proximity to the man that he loves. 

God help us if we both become ill at the same time,  Danny thinks, and he shakes his head, nearly laughing as he pictures it, though, really, it's not a funny prospect. Danny’s a bear when he’s sick.

Danny pulls the covers up, underneath Steve's chin and smooths them out, tucking in his tough as nails Navy man, and kissing him on the cheek. Steve's blinking heavily, struggling to keep his eyes open, and Danny chuckles. 

Just like Grace, he thinks. It’s funny how much she and Steve have in common. As though Steve was meant to be her step-father. 

"Go to sleep, Steven," Danny says, keeping his voice soft, running a hand through Steve's sweaty hair to comfort him. "You'll feel better once you've rested. I think we're almost through the worst of it now."

Steve's eyes open wide, and Danny resists the urge to laugh as Steve tries, in vain, to stay awake. It'll only hurt Steve's feelings, and it's cruel to kick a man when he's down. 

Steve opens his mouth, and is hijacked by a yawn. He falls back against the pillows, frowning at his own weakness. "I am not a child, Danny," he says, voice petulant, lower lip trembling.

"I know that, babe, but you  are sick, and you do need to rest," Danny says, keeping the frustration -- they've been going over this very concern for the past thirty-six hours, or so, and it's wearing on Danny's patience -- out of his voice. 

Steve's frown deepens, and another yawn steals whatever retort he'd lined up. He sighs, and his eyelids start to close. They waffle a bit, opening and closing, opening and closing, until finally, finally, Steve loses that battle and they stay shut.

"I hate this," Steve says around yet another yawn.

Danny rubs Steve's shoulder, and places a kiss on his forehead. "I know you do, babe. Me too." And he does hate it. He doesn’t like to see Steve hurting and so out of it. 

Steve's breath evens out, and only then does Danny dare to move from where he's been sitting, beside Steve, since the man had taken ill. He hasn't slept, or eaten, hasn't made a trip to the bathroom on his own since all this began, and right now, Danny's hoping that Steve will sleep long enough for him to shower, eat, and maybe catch a couple hours of sleep himself. 

He's halfway through his shower when a loud bang reaches his ears, and he hastily rinses the suds out of his hair, and his eyes, and doesn't even bother toweling off as he races from the bathroom, completely in the nude and sopping wet. Steve's sitting on the floor, rubbing at his eyes and his elbow, a sheepish look on his face when Danny comes running in to investigate the noise. 

Danny, hands on his hips, raises an eyebrow, and Steve looks away, picks at the blanket that had wrapped around his legs and tripped him. Clearly the man had been attempting some sort of escape, but had been thwarted by the blankets which Danny had wrapped around him. 

"'m sorry, Danny I...grlndlpmehopsle," Steve mutters, and he's still not looking at Danny.

"Pardon me, I didn't quite catch that," Danny says, more than just a little angry. "I thought that we'd agreed, after the first time you fell on your ass, that you would call me if you needed to get out of bed for ANY reason. This," Danny gestures at the downed Steve, who blushes in response, "is not soliciting my help. Not even slightly."

Anger spent, Danny swipes a hand through his hair and grimaces as he inadvertently sends droplets of water throughout the room. Some of them hit Steve who shivers and cowers slightly.

"I'm sorry, Danny," Steve says, raising his head and jutting his chin out stubbornly. "But you were in the shower and I..." he trails off, clutching the blankets a little tighter and looking away for a moment, jaw working up to what he wants to say. 

"I'm a grown man," he growls, eyes glittering darkly, cheeks flushing in anger and shame. "I'm a grown man.” The words are whispered this time.

Tears well up in Steve's eyes, and, before he even registers the move, Danny's on his knees, gathering the silently crying man into his arms, and calming him as he would Grace after a nightmare.

Steve wipes angrily at his tears, but Danny refuses to let him go, even when he tries to pull away. Steve, whether he knows it or not,  needs this. Danny wonders how often he was held as a child, doubts that it was all that often, given who the man's parents were. Not that Danny doubts that the McGarretts loved their children, (in their own way) but they sure had funny ways of showing it.

"It's okay, Steven, I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me," Danny says, keeping his voice low and even, rubbing Steve's back. "I promise I'll be here when you need me, next time, okay?"

Steve sniffs, and his breath hitches, and it's all Danny can do not to pull the man into his lap and rock him. He knows Steve, even sick as he is right now, won't allow that. Instead, he does what Steve  will allow, and just holds the proud man until the tears and the embarrassment subsides, and then Danny leads a very docile and much too compliant Steve into the bathroom, and runs a bath for him, because, finally, the fever's broken and Steve's a stinky, sticky mess. 

Clean and mollified, Steve sits on the armchair that Danny's talked him into keeping in their bedroom, and watches while Danny changes the bedsheets. There's an odd look on the man's face, and his eyes follow Danny's every movement. 

Finishing with the last corner of the bed, Danny turns around and throws his hands out wide. "What? Are the corners not military perfect enough for your taste army man?" He feels more than just a little self-conscious, and checks the corners in question, smoothing one down even as he glares at Steve.

Steve laughs, it's a raspy sounding thing that makes Danny's heart clench. He knows that, in another day, maybe two, Steve will be fine, and back to his normal self, but it's hard seeing him sick and rundown, and not really being able to do anything to fix it. 

Laughing outright, tears, this time not of pain and humiliation, gather at the corners of his eyes, and Steve points at Danny. He shakes his head, and clutches his middle as he struggles to get his laughter, and breathing, under control.

"Navy, Danno," he corrects, though by now Steve knows that Danny only pokes fun at the military designations when he's feeling just a little out of his element, or when he's upset, or angry, or...a number of different reasons.

Danny crosses his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes at his now quietly chuckling lover. "Fine, Navy. Are the corners not up to Naval standards,  Commander ?"

Steve lets the slight go, and sobers up considerably. "The corners are fine," Steve says, eyes lingering on Danny's waist, or rather, just below the waist. He licks his lips and Danny’s frown deepens. 

"Actually, I kind of enjoyed the show," Steve finally says, eyes twinkling with mirth, even as Danny's stance becomes even more guarded. 

"I'm glad that you enjoyed the show, Steven," Danny says, some of his pent up frustration -- worry for Steve -- coming to the fore. Though he tries to keep it out of his voice, he knows that he's unsuccessful. "Pardon me for making sure that you had clean, unsullied sheets to sleep in, now that I've nursed you back to health.”

"D." Steve opens his mouth, shuts it, the mirth in his eyes dies a little, and he shakily stands.

Danny grits his teeth and glares at Steve. "Sit down before you fall down."

"You're naked," Steve says, still very much standing, though he's shaking like a leaf. "You're naked, and the corners are fine, and so, by the way is your ass."

Danny blinks at Steve, runs a hand over himself, and can feel the rush of heat as he blushes, full body. He  is naked. Had forgotten to dress himself when he'd dressed Steve in a comfortable pair of silk boxers and a tee-shirt. 

Overcoming his momentary embarrassment. It's not like Steve hasn't seen him in the nude before, though, to be fair, Steve has never seen Danny do housework in the nude before. Not that Danny  does housework in the nude...often...never after that one time Rachel had caught him dusting one of their bookshelves in the buff, and had informed him, rather cheekily, that the curtains weren't completely closed. A neighbor had called and commented on his, 'lovely physique'. 

"If I was feeling better, I'd bend you over and --" the rest of Steve's words are lost in a hacking cough that has Danny wincing in sympathy, and rushing over to the man's side to usher him into bed, and beneath warm, clean covers. 

"Promise me," Steve says around a jaw-cracking yawn, once he's settled in bed, eyes at half-mast. 

Danny, perched on the edge of the bed, running his fingers through Steve's hair, hmms. He's tired, exhausted, and is more than ready to crawl beneath the covers, once Steve is asleep, and join the man in the Land of Nod. 

"Promise you what, Steve?" Danny asks, stifling a yawn behind a fist.

"Promise me, that, once I'm well again, you'll make the bed," Steve requests, voice filled with sincerity, and a seriousness that makes Danny do a double-take.

Danny's so tired that it's hard to keep his eyes open, and he has no idea what Steve's getting at. He makes the bed. Washes dishes, and even puts them back where Steve had them in the first place. He does just as much, if not more, housework than Steve.

Danny's brow furrows, and he shrugs, nods. "Okay, but I'll have you know that I pull my fair share around this house --"

Steve places a finger on Danny's lips, stalling his rant, he chuckles and shakes his head, eyes gleaming. "In the nude, Danno. Make the bed in the nude, with me watching," Steve says, and he licks his lips, the blue of his eyes darkens slightly. 

Eyebrows meeting his hairline as Danny's fuzzy, sleep-deprived brain finally catches up to what Steve's getting at, Danny shakes his head, but leans in close and kisses Steve when the man starts to pout. 

"I promise," Danny whispers. "But, right now, you and I had both better get some sleep. Ma's rearranged our fitting for three days from now, and we cannot, I repeat,  cannot , miss this appointment. If we do, we might have to --"

Steve surges up to steal a kiss, and Danny's breath, and Danny lets the rest of the words fall away as Steve tugs him down against him. 

"Sleep, Danno," Steve urges, eyes twinkling, mouth quirked upward in a smile.

Settling in beside Steve, still very much naked as the day he was born, Danny complies, but not until after Steve's breaths have evened out into sleep. 


End file.
